


Complimentary Service

by manic_intent



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, M/M, That fic where they're both stuck in an airport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “Fuck,” Santino said out aloud as the announcement was made over the PA. Just his fucking luck. The one time he decided to fly commercial instead of borrowing the family jet and the flight had to get fucking delayed. By another two hours. The hell was he supposed to do?In the silence of the Private Room, his expletive echoed like a gunshot. The sole other occupant of the dining section glanced over at Santino and looked back at his food. Dour, tall man all in black. He looked vaguely familiar. A movie star, maybe? He was good-looking enough to be one, and the Private Room only admitted outbound First Class passengers. Santino took a sneaky photo and sent it to his sister, who usually cared about this kind of thing.





	Complimentary Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keeping_truth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeping_truth/gifts).



> Prompt by keeping_truth, who asked for a Santino/John fic where they’re both on the same flight but it keeps getting delayed and eventually cancelled, so they’re stranded in the airport. 
> 
> I’m Singaporean, so I’m actually extremely spoiled where airports and flights are concerned. Our airport is awesome. Every time I fly home it’s like reentering an alternate universe where airports are beautiful and everything works. I wouldn’t actually mind being stuck at Changi for a day. That being said, I did still want to set this fic in Changi, because I love the airport to bits. 
> 
> Timelines have been rejigged for this fic. Santino here is in his 20s, before his clan gains a foothold in New York and puts him in charge of it. John hasn’t yet met Helen.

“Fuck,” Santino said out aloud as the announcement was made over the PA. Just his fucking luck. The one time he decided to fly commercial instead of borrowing the family jet and the flight had to get fucking delayed. By another two hours. The hell was he supposed to do? 

In the silence of the Private Room, his expletive echoed like a gunshot. The sole other occupant of the dining section glanced over at Santino and looked back at his food. Dour, tall man all in black. He looked vaguely familiar. A movie star, maybe? He was good-looking enough to be one, and the Private Room only admitted outbound First Class passengers. Santino took a sneaky photo and sent it to his sister, who usually cared about this kind of thing.

She messaged him back instantly. _Where the fuck are you?_

_Singapore airport. Flight delayed 3 hrs_ , Santino replied. 

_Get out of there._

Santino frowned at his phone. _Why?_

This was already the second delay. During the first delay, Santino had wandered back out through customs to look at the new Jewel section of the airport but had retreated after a quick circuit around the massive indoor waterfall and canopy garden. The crowds were something else, and as far as Santino could tell, consisted mostly of locals with a lot of spare time. Why was there a 2-hour queue for the A&W? Was there nothing else to do in Singapore? 

_It’s John Wick. The Baba Yaga. Tarasov hitman. Didn’t you hear? He wiped out the Company by himself in New York. He’s dangerous._

Interesting. Santino hadn’t paid very much attention about the goings-on in New York, not while his family was still trying to consolidate their position in Naples. _Call you later,_ he told Gianna and took a sip of his passable champagne. He looked back over at John, who was now laser-focused on his food. Hell, why not. It wasn’t as though he had anything else to entertain himself with here. Santino got to his feet and walked over to John, who looked up sharply once he got close. 

“Hello,” Santino said, in his harshly accented English. “May I?” He tipped his glass at the seat opposite John. 

John inclined his head. He glanced around the dining room, quiet and seemingly empty, though the unobtrusive butlers kept carefully out of sight. When he was satisfied that they were fairly alone, John looked Santino over with open interest. He was working his way through a plate of satay, the sticks piled neatly on one side. “You are?” John asked.

“Santino D’Antonio,” Santino said, a little irked by John’s ignorance. His family might not yet have a seat on the Table, but they were fairly close by his father’s estimation. “You’re John Wick. You work for the Tarasovs.” 

“Right,” John said. The speculative look in his eyes instantly folded away. John dropped his gaze and kept eating. He ate like a wolf, using more teeth and force than what was necessary. Curiosity wormed through Santino’s boredom as he took another sip of his champagne. 

“What are you doing in Singapore?” Santino asked, even though it was a little rude to ask. 

John flicked a glance up over Santino’s face, clearly considering whether to answer. “Transiting,” he said, after a pause. 

“What a coincidence. So am I.” 

“Flight’s delayed,” John said, after a longer pause. “Bad weather in JFK.” 

“You’re also flying to New York?” Santino should’ve guessed. John inclined his head. “Ah, how interesting. I’m supposed to visit an uncle, but to be honest, I just wanted to see New York City. I’ve never been.” 

“Never been to Naples,” John said. He stabbed a rice cube with a skewer and dipped it into the spicy peanut sauce. “Rome, once.” 

“On business?” 

“Yeah,” John said. He ate the cube, flashing teeth. “No other reason to travel.” 

“You don’t like to travel?” Santino could understand that. Especially given their current arrested predicament. 

John didn’t answer. Santino tried to parse his silence. He didn’t want to criticise his employers, perhaps. It was prudent. John didn’t know Santino, but they both knew that the world they lived in thrived on gossip. “Surely the Tarasovs don’t begrudge you downtime,” Santino said, surprised. “If they work you that hard, maybe you should work for us instead.” He smiled as charmingly as he could. 

John let out a snort. “That isn’t it. Besides. You guys? Someone who isn’t Italian won’t get far in a clan. No point.” 

“My clan isn’t that old-fashioned. We appreciate talent.”

“Sure,” John said, indifferent. “No. I’m not interested.” 

Santino licked the thin rim of his glass playfully. “What about in something else?” 

John watched him, his gaze tracing Santino’s lips and tracking back up. He shook his head, picking up another skewer. “Not interested.” 

Santino scowled. He wasn’t used to being turned down. “That so?” 

“Personal policy. I don’t fuck within the Arrangement. People start expecting favours,” John said. 

Santino snuck another quick glance at the Dining Room. “Your candour is refreshing. And understandable. I don’t, however, actually know you, friend. You didn’t know me. Nor do I particularly care who you are. My sister had to give me a summary. I still don’t care. My clan has no interest in New York.” 

John looked back up. “Why’re you still sitting here, then?” 

“Delayed flight. I’m bored. You looked interesting.” 

“Big airport. Walk around it,” John said. 

“Already done that.” Santino grimaced. “I’m not the biggest fan of crowds, and the shops are… trite.” Santino preferred his clothes bespoke, from his ties to his shoes. An easy thing to require in the Arrangement. “What are you going to do?”

“Sleep.” 

“You don’t want company for that?” Santino grinned slyly. “No strings attached.” 

John made a show of looking around. “Might be complicated.” 

“Only for the unimaginative.”

#

The bathrooms in the Private Room were personal bathrooms instead of sectioned cubicles that looked transplanted out of a luxury hotel. Once locked inside, Santino turned the shower on and closed the heavy shower door. The noise would hopefully drown them out. John pushed Santino up against the sink and kissed him with a familiar biting hunger, licking into his mouth. Santino purred, curling his arms over John’s shoulders. He gasped as John picked him up, wedging him against the heavy wooden door to grind against Santino as he kissed.

Santino draped his legs around John’s waist and shoved his heels against John’s ass, hauling him closer. “That would be fun if we had time for prep,” Santino said, and caught John’s lower lip briefly in his teeth. 

“There’s a shower there. We’ve got hours,” John said. He nuzzled Santino’s throat, grazing his teeth over the edge of Santino’s collar. 

Santino chuckled. “This personal rule of yours against fraternising within the Arrangement must have made you a lonely man. Tempting, but no. They’ll check on us sooner or later.” 

“What then?” 

“Let me down.” 

John obliged. He sucked in a slow breath as Santino sank to his knees, creasing his expensive trousers. This wasn’t something Santino usually cared to do. Appearances mattered in Naples, and clans could be so… old-fashioned. It wasn’t like a hitman from a New York bratva would play any part in the rest of Santino’s life, however. They were practically strangers, linked only through the Arrangement. Santino drew John out and grinned playfully up at John, squeezing the thickening cock playfully. “Any last objections?” Santino asked, kissing the tip. 

John groaned, leaning back against the door. “Suck me,” he said, tangling his fingers carefully through Santino’s hair.

“Don’t pull. And try to be more polite. I’m not trying to fuck a favour out of you.” 

“Please,” John gasped. He stifled a groan with his own fingers as Santino chuckled and swallowed him down. 

John made a shocked noise as Santino kept going, until his lips were curled around the thick root, the heavy weight of John’s cock pressed over his tongue and against the back of his throat. He sucked eagerly and was sloppy about it, trying not to be too loud. John closed his hand around the back of Santino’s head and rocked carefully. When Santino merely hummed, John gasped. He grew less careful, less quiet, until he was groaning with each shove down Santino’s throat. As John’s thighs started to grow tense against Santino’s shoulders, the bastard actually slowed down, taking him in deeper, longer thrusts. 

Irritated, Santino pulled back, clenching his fingertips in John’s thighs. “Hurry up, John.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t actually intend to spend the whole—” Santino paused as there was an announcement for passengers on their flight. Which was now cancelled. Thanks to bad snow at JFK. “Motherfuckers,” Santino said, incredulous. 

“Shit,” John said. His hand eased over Santino’s hair. 

Santino caught John’s wrist, smirking as he nipped the palm. “Ah, but _now_ we have time.” Santino laughed as John moaned, pulling him back down.

**Author's Note:**

> Refs:  
> For those who haven’t seen Changi before, this is how extra our airport is: https://edition.cnn.com/videos/travel/2019/04/17/jewel-changi-airport-opens.cnn/video/playlists/cnn-travel-asia/ 
> 
> The Private Room: https://theshutterwhale.com/blog/2016/11/22/lounge-review-the-private-room-by-singapore-airlines-changi-airport 
> 
> And yes, gay sex is still illegal in SG thanks to section 377A of our penal code. If you’re in Singapore, you probably already know this, but Pink Dot is on the 29th of June this year, us overseas SGeans can wear pink in support. I see recently there’s been a push by religious groups to wear white as a protest on that day and I all I can say is (◔_◔)  
> —  
> twitter: @manic_intent  
> about my writing etc: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
> 


End file.
